


Why the Cypathion Postal Service doesn't service the Ol' Strings Tavern anymore

by unexpectedchair



Series: The ties that bind [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, anyways. MAILMAN, fuck you ted, sometimes you just gotta mug someone y'know?, there is nothing I despise more than tagging teds name, this is why we bully you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:59:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25189840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unexpectedchair/pseuds/unexpectedchair
Summary: Krunk is tired of waiting for a response back from his father. Deciding to take matters into his own hands, he recruits his friends for a team-up mission of criminal proportions.
Relationships: Krunk & Rest of Party
Series: The ties that bind [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824715





	Why the Cypathion Postal Service doesn't service the Ol' Strings Tavern anymore

**Author's Note:**

> this is one of the best things ive written

“Okay, seriously,” Krunk grumbled, “You can get a letter from the fucking feywilde, but I can’t get a letter from my dad?”

Ainsel lifted her head. Her eyes, though pitch black, were somewhat bleary and more glassy than usual, clearly hungover. 

“Krunk,” she began, “If you don’t stop complaining, I’m going to use Ted’s warhammer to hammer my dagger into your skull.”

Krunk promptly turned, walking around the table and over to Joshuel. “So Ainsel can get a letter from the f-”

“Feywilde, right, sounds like a wild place,” Joshuel completed, “I heard you, you were uh, pretty loud. Also, we’re all sitting at the same table.”

Ted, Istus, Terrance, Toast, and Banana all waved to the best of their abilities.

“Well, are you sure it’s not just that the Peaklands are a dangerous place? It was very expensive to get that letter sent in the first place, as I recall. Maybe it’s not your father, but the mail service itself,” Ted suggested.

At that, Krunk’s eyes seemed to light up.

“Oh no!” Toast said, observational yet still optimistic.

“Guys,” Krunk whispered, “Let’s just cut out the middleman! Doesn’t the mail route pass through here on twosdays? Isn’t it twosday today?”

“Oh no,” Istus said, catching on.

“What if we just… took the letter from him?”

“... With all due respect, Krunk,” Terrance interjected. “You ain’t suggesting we mug the poor man, are you?”

Ainsel narrowed her eyes. “I suppose it’s not a bad idea. Sometimes you have to take things into your own hands.”

“Yeah!” Krunk grinned. “See? Ainsel agrees with me!”

“Uhm, I don’t know, seems like it could be dangerous,” Joshuel pointed out. “Aren’t these mailmen like.. Highly trained?”

“So? So are we!”

“... I want no part in this,” Ted said, putting his hands up. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Who’s with me?” Krunk looked around the table. Ainsel, Terrance, Toast, and Joshuel all raised their hands, some more reluctant than others.

“Might as well,” Terrance sighed. “You’ll need someone sneaky.”

“Toast!” Toast said.

“Well, I believe in a free society, which requires convenience. And you’ve paid,” Joshuel reasoned. “Just, uh, as long as this isn’t too illegal.”

“I want to stab something,” Ainsel muttered. “That, and Banana might be useful.”

“Okay, so, he passes through at dark,” Krunk began.

Istus rested her face on the table, sighing loudly. Ted followed suit.

\--

Outside the Ol’ Strings tavern was always eerie as dusk. With the horizon seemingly never ending due to the flat land, the fading light gave way to an all-consuming darkness that covered the landscape. That, and the silent, roaring wind that accompanied the rocky desert at all hours seemed to create a creepy melody. 

Krunk almost felt sorry as he saw the mailman creeping along the path, clutching his satchel as he passed through, horse by his side. Almost. Krunk fucking wanted that letter, minimum wage workers be damned.

He looked around the corner of the alleyway he had tucked himself in, up at where Terrance and Ainsel lay in wait. He looked across the street to an opposing alleyway, where Joshuel was hidden, Toast sitting on his shoulder in harmony with Thomas Jefferson the rat. Then, Banana crowed three times, signalling that their prey was in position.

Krunk slunk out of the alleyway, and despite his large form, he was stealthy- right until the key moment, where he was behind the mailmen.

That’s where he tripped directly onto his face.

The mailman turned, and yelped at the sight of him.

“Shiiiit,” Krunk swore, then did the smartest thing he could- he grabbed onto the poor bastard’s legs, hugging them together like they were Joshuel when he was drunk.

“What on-” But the Mailman didn’t have time to finish his plea, as Ainsel and Terrance jumped down. 

They had both promised no stabbing to Ted, but they solved this caveat by getting close, Ainsel’s precision with her dagger slicing off a good portion of the poor man’s carefully cultivated hair fringe as a sort of warning. Meanwhile, Terrance was even more precise, in how he cleanly and carefully sliced the strap suspending the mailman’s bag, sending it into freefall.

“Get the bag!” Krunk hollered, mangling his words a bit in his panic (and he had some dirt in his mouth) , so that it came out more like _guet th bwag!_

Joshuel dove. And although he dove too soon to catch it himself, he dove at the perfect moment to allow Toast to use him as a diving board, gracefully leaping off Joshuel’s shoulder and catching the bag before it hit the ground without spilling a single letter. He then transitioned into a roll, clutching the parcel to his chest, screaming “Toast!” in triumph, before he vanished into the darkness behind the tavern.

“Run, assholes!” Ainsel yelled, turning and fleeing. Terrance practically vanished in plain sight with how well he transitioned into hiding. Joshuel picked himself off the ground, and then turned and ran back into the alleyway, twice as fast as normal, as they were in a city. That left Krunk alone with the mailman. 

He took the opportunity to stand, dusting himself off, and he towered himself over the mailman.

“You didn’t see shit,” he said, willing himself to appear scarier than normal.

“I didn’t see shit! I didn’t see shit!” The mailman cried.

Krunk took that opportunity to flee into the night.

\--

“You actually did it,” Ted crossed his arms. “I’m disappointed. Not surprised.”

“We got the mail, didn’t we?” Ainsel raised an eyebrow. “Krunk’s letter is important.”

“You also got a bunch of other people’s letters,” he pointed out, “How do you intend on getting them to their proper recipients?”

Krunk and Ainsel looked at eachother, like they had both just considered this.

“Ehhhh, fuck em,” they said in unison. Ted facepalmed.

“Let’s start looking through the letters, then, see if we can find that letter Krunk wanted,” Terrance proceeded to dump the contents of the letter on the table. It was a lot of letters, at least a hundred.

“Ooh boy,” Krunk muttered, “On second thought…”

“You dug your grave, now lie in it,” Istus chided, picking up a letter. “Let’s not open any of these. Just see who they’re addressed to. Any ones in orcish go to Krunk and Ainsel, and are priority to be checked.” 

“Reasonable,” Ainsel nodded appreciatively.

And thusly, they dug into the letters, reading over the recipients. It took them an hour to get through half, with no result.

“Hm, this one is partially opened,” Ted muttered, then peeked inside. His face went white, then red, and he slowly set the envelope down, sliding it across the table as if it had burned him.

“What’s this?” Ainsel picked it up, peering inside. “A painting- oh. That’s a penis alright.”

“Yo, what?” Krunk took the envelope, then burst out laughing. “Oh, shit, this man’s out here sending nudes through the mail!”

“Close it, close it!” Ted hissed. “Oh, gods, my _eyes_.”

“Fucking beautiful,” Krunk took it, then tossed it over his shoulder. “Next!”

Another few minutes passed in silence. Ainsel found herself drawing a particularly ornate letter, in white and blue trim. She turned it over, reading who it was addressed to.

_To the head of the House of Avington-_

Her eyes widened, and she stared at it for a moment, feeling herself freeze. She read over it, recognizing the sender as some other noble house, and she paused.

“Hm,” she hummed, surprisingly level in tone, before she activated her crimson rite and burned the letter to ash. 

“What was that?” Istus raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing important. But there’s mail from all over in here. Let’s keep going.”

Two hours passed with nothing but an asleep Toast, three mimosas, Terrance leaving to go hang out with Peanut, and Krunk losing all faith in humanity.

Then, a spark of hope. A glimmering brilliance. Light.

“Guys,” Krunk stood up straighter, holding up a letter. “Guys, I think this one has my name on it!”

In half a second, the table had surrounded him, as he opened the letter, and began to read.

It was a short, simple letter, all it said was ‘Pull the lever.’

Dead silence.

Krunk stared at it. “What.. what does this mean? What lever?”

“Hm,” Terrance hummed. “Maybe it’s some kinda metaphor?”

“Krunk,” Ainsel interjected.

“I seriously don’t get it! Why would he-”

“Krunk!” Ainsel held up the envelope, torn. “I’m afraid you read it wrong.”

The group stared at her.

“It says _Kronk_ ,” she gestured to the orcish writing, “Not _Krunk_.”


End file.
